


Sad Songs

by aworldinside



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Gen, Harvey needs a hug, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aworldinside/pseuds/aworldinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t till he was twelve that Harvey had started to see the cracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene from 2.07.

Rick: *I'm* the only "cause" I'm interested in.

\- _Casablanca_ (1942)

\--

Harvey didn’t think about it much. He didn’t like dwelling in the past but between Jessica, Tanner and this fucking in-house trial life seemed hell-bent on bringing it all back. So, here he was, staring out his office window, his fingers running over the seams of his favourite baseball, and thinking about it.

_“And it turns out the whole time that you were home with Daddy …”_

He threw the baseball down into the opposite hand.

He knew his parents’ marriage hadn’t been perfect, there hadn’t been a lot of money around between his father trying to work as a musician and his mother’s job at the bank but he’d at least thought it was loving. He remembered nice family dinners and them going to his baseball games together, and he didn’t question that sometimes his mother wasn’t around, or that there were days when his father played songs which sounded sadder than usual.

_“Where’s Dad?”_  
_“He’s in his music room.”_  
_“That song sounds sad.”_  
_“He’s a blues musician, Luke. A lot of the songs sound sad. Now c’mon let’s go throw the ball outside.”_

It wasn’t till he was twelve that he’d started to see the cracks. A snippet of a phone-call he wasn’t supposed to hear, a delighted laugh, but he’d tried not to think about it. He’d been good at denial since a young age.

_“Is your Mother home?”_  
_“No … she’s out.”_  
_“Okay. I’m going to go to bed. You shouldn’t still be up, Harvey.”_  
_“Dad?”_  
_“Yeah, son?”_  
_“... just until Casablanca ends?”_  
_“Okay, then.”_

Finally, when Harvey and Luke were old enough to look after themselves, she’d gone. Taken off with someone she knew from work. She’d at least said goodbye, although Harvey hadn’t really been in the mood to hear it. He remembered Luke crying into his side.

Eventually he’d found out more about this guy. And then the guy who was doing up the red Ford Mustang Harvey had always looked at with envy when he rode on his bike to school. And his baseball coach. She hadn’t even tried to be careful.

His Dad had never recovered. He’d lock himself away with his trumpet while Harvey cooked meals for them all and looked after the house in-between baseball games and mostly going to class. When he blew out his shoulder only Luke’s insistence that he’d be fine and look after their father had made him go to college. He’d gone somewhere nearby, where he hadn’t been offered a scholarship because his shoulder had taken care of that, and where he’d proceeded to get pretty average grades. He never even considered taking the LSATs.

When Harvey was in his junior year his Dad got sick and he deteriorated quickly. His last words in his hospital room before he slipped away had been her name. Harvey didn’t believe people died of broken hearts, but in this case it had probably helped things along.

His Dad hadn’t even really gotten that angry about it - her leaving. He’d known about the affairs of course and he’d forgiven her. Harvey never had. Never would. He’d now seen where caring too much got you. He loved his father, but he had no desire to be like him. To open himself up to that much pain. To feel that much. What kind of life was that?

_“I didn’t see her there, at the service.”_  
_“She wasn’t there.”_  
_“I wish she had been.”_  
_“I don’t.”_

Luke went to college on the other side of the country and Harvey somehow ended up working in the mailroom of a New York law firm. it had been a job and at the time he’d really needed one.

She’d turned up when Luke was in hospital after the motorbike crash. Briefly tried to pretend like nothing happened, like she’d been there for the last fifteen years of their lives, before disappearing again, at least making sure Luke was out of the woods before she did. She’d tried to have a conversation with Harvey a couple of times. It hadn’t gone well.

_“My fucking baseball coach?!”_  
_“Harvey, you don’t know what it was ….”_  
_“Just. Stop.”_

He put the baseball down on the ledge by the window.

He should probably call his brother. It was his birthday in a week? Two weeks? Fuck, he never remembered these things, Donna usually told him. It was probably in a calendar somewhere. In a colour code that had now been changed and was alien to him.

He stole a quick glance out the front of his office and didn’t see red hair or an artfully raised eyebrow and snarky enquiry if he’d pulled something trying to experience emotion like other humans. Instead the infant at her desk just gave him a nervous smile.

Yeah, today could fuck right off.

He dialled a number on his cellphone as he grabbed his gym bag from the corner of his office. “Hey Charlie? It’s Harvey. Yeah. You got time for me to come in today? Yeah, in about half an hour? Thanks. Yeah, I’m fine. See you then.”

He’d be fine. He’d beat this. He was Harvey fucking Specter and he’d been through worse.

But first he was going to punch something.


End file.
